


Work of Art

by EllaB



Category: Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-05
Updated: 2012-06-05
Packaged: 2017-11-06 23:54:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/424607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllaB/pseuds/EllaB
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When 29-year old Bella enrolls in an art class at her local college, she is looking for a new, organic experience. However, when she meets the teacher's assistant, Edward, she begins to crave an experience of a different kind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Work of Art

**Author's Note:**

> Author's note: This story came to me after seeing a hot art professor and wondering what it would be like to...well...you know!
> 
> I do not own Twilight or its characters. I just use the characters to bring my smutty fantasies to life!

It all started on the first day of classes — a Tuesday. I had been late, of course — rushing to try to find the painting studio that was housed in the attic of the college's oldest building. Bursting into the room, I felt all of the eyes on me as I made my way toward the closest folding chair. The professor paused in his talking as I took my seat and I slouched down, my ears burning.

_Terrific_. I already felt like a freak — it isn't easy being a 29-year old college student in a room full of 18 and 19-year olds — but I didn't have to help my "freak status" along by drawing attention to myself by being tardy. And I was a stickler for the rules. What a way to start out my new adventure.

Having already gotten an English degree seven years earlier from a large, state-sponsored university, I was familiar with the whole college experience. However, I had wanted to broaden my horizons and relieve some boredom in my life, so I enrolled in an introductory painting class at the local liberal arts college. Just for the experience.

I had never painted in my entire life, unless you count my living room walls, and that had turned out to be a spectacular catastrophe. I was taking myself way out of my normal, boring routine, but I was determined to do something new and exciting.

I glanced around the drafty space. There was something unique and inspiring about the attic studio. The A-frame ceiling was topped with large window panes, allowing the September sunlight to pour in. Either side of the room had large, circular windows that looked out across the lush, green campus and its brick buildings. We were arranged in a semi-circle of folding chairs, our professor in the middle. All around us were easels and canvas, brushes, buckets and paints of all kinds.

The worn wooden floor held evidence of years of creative expression, drops and splashes in every color making it an artwork all its own.

My professor — who introduced himself as Billy Black, but told us to call him Billy — looked as though he had just stepped out of Woodstock '69. His beard was long and grey, with flecks of paint scattered throughout it. He wore speckled Birkenstocks and a tie-died t-shirt. I adored him immediately. He spoke with his hands, gesturing about wildly as he talked about his expectations for our class. I listened, enthralled, for nearly a half hour before I sat back and allowed myself to relax a bit.

I moved my gaze around the room. Most of the first-year girls were decked out in their best "college" outfits, their makeup impeccable. I smiled to myself, remembering the first day of classes when I was their age. We could always tell the freshman girls by their makeup — they tried to put their best face forward, so to speak. Usually, they would quickly learn that such an effort wasn't necessary for their classes. By the middle of the semester, most came in their pajamas, if they came at all.

Most of the students were girls, but a few boys sat here and there, looking incredibly bored in their graphic tees and trucker hats. _Kids_ , I couldn't help thinking, feeling incredibly old around them.

Then I saw _him_ , and time seemed to come to a halt. Seriously — a beam of light from the window illuminated him and if I listened hard enough I swear I could have heard distant angels singing a sweet, triumphant chorus.

He was sitting on the windowsill near one of the circular windows. He held a notebook in his hand and was watching our professor closely. A small pencil was tucked behind his ear, nearly lost in his tousled, bronze hair. I breathed in sharply, my heart speeding up. He was the most beautiful man I had ever seen.

I was aware of Professor Billy continuing his excited talking, but it became a buzz in my ears as everything in me focused on the man by the window. His skin was pale and flawless, and he was muscular without looking overly bulky. He had an air of maturity about him that the other people in the room did not, which made me think he was older than the 18-year olds in the room.

As I stared, his eyes wandered away from the professor and fixed on me. His eyes were a striking, sparkling green. I was so mesmerized that it took me several seconds to look away, blushing at being caught. After a few seconds, I sneaked a peek at him from the corner of my eyes, and saw him still looking my way, a grin on his face. I made an attempt to snap myself out of my lust-trance and focus back on the professor, who was explaining the differences in oil, acrylic and watercolor. With a surprised jerk, I saw Professor Billy motion toward my window man.

"Edward is my T.A. this semester…he's a senior art major and spent the last summer in Chicago working on a graffiti-inspired beautification project for the city. I think you'll all learn quite a bit from him. I'll let him explain your first assignment. Edward?"

The bronze-haired man sauntered to the middle of our semi-circle and looked straight at me, flashing a crooked smile that made a jolt of warmth go through my body, settling in my toes.

He cleared his throat, and began speaking in a velvety voice that reminded me of chimes, honey and sex. _Mmm, honey and sex_ … I leaned forward, flinching every time his eyes lit on me, but never looking away.

"This is truly an introductory course," he said. "Since many of you are new to artistic expression through paint, the first assignment is meant to open you up to find your inspiration and break down the obstacles to creativity." I could feel my mouth gaping slightly as I listened to his words, and I closed my jaw and licked my lips nervously. He saw, and his eyebrows twitched and he stuttered.

"So, um, so this assignment is to create something…anything…outside of your comfort zone, using only paint. Perhaps to paint something heart-wrenching, or violent. Perhaps something personal. Once you can look into your soul for inspiration, painting something as simple as fruit or a nude will be easy. This may be your most difficult assignment of the semester. It's due next Thursday, so you have a week and a half."

He stepped back and his eyes zeroed in on me again as he allowed our professor to take over once more.

"Before we leave, I want to go around and have us introduce ourselves, so I can start trying to put faces to names," Professor Billy said. "I'm terrible with names, but I hope by the end of the semester to have a few of you down. Bear with me…"

He motioned toward a dolled-up first-year girl wearing a low-cut shirt. "I'm Lauren Mallory," she said in a babydoll voice. "I'm a drama major from Connecticut." We continued down the semi-circle. Jessica Stanley. Mike Newton. Angela Weber. Rosalie Hale. Alice Brandon. Eric Yorkie. Finally it was my turn.

I took a deep breath, suddenly terrified. "Hi, I'm Bella Swan," I said, my voice shaking slightly. In the corner of my eye, I saw Edward mouth the words _Bella Swan_ , and I stammered before continuing. "I live about a half hour away and I'm taking this class for the experience of it — I've always wanted to take an art class. I already have a bachelor's degree from the state university in English. I work for a non-profit in town during the day, but they're nice enough to let me take some time for this class."

"So, like, how old are you, Bella?" Lauren's rude whisper interrupted.

_Lie_!, my brain screamed, but I heard myself truthfully saying, "Twenty-nine." A few of the students exchanged surprised looks, but before long the next person continued the intros and I breathed a sigh of relief. I barely heard the next few minutes as Professor Billy talked about office hours if we needed help with the assignment, and then it was time to go.

As I gathered my things, I looked up and met Edward's curious gaze. He parted his lips slightly, like he wanted to say something. My head felt light. Feeling the obvious electricity crackle between us, I was suddenly terrified, and hurriedly stood up and made a beeline for the door. Behind me, I heard a velvet voice murmur softly, "Bella Swan…" as I exited, my heart pounding.

I had to work on Wednesday, so I didn't start on my painting until class time on Thursday. Walking in, carrying my small blank canvas, I kept my eyes directed at the floor. I didn't want to look around and see Edward's magnificence until I was seated and had my bearings about me. Even so, it took all I had not to dart my eyes about the room. I had a vision of him swirling in my mind since that first class, and today I hoped to memorize the details of his face to make my daydreams less fuzzy.

I selected an empty easel next to an already paint-spattered girl, who gave me a shy smile and continued her work. Professor Billy was walking around, pointing out details and giving advice. I put my things down and went to gather my paints and supplies. They were in a corner by a beat-up, paint-covered couch. I smiled at the sight…it fit so well in this makeshift attic studio.

I had decided to use oils for this first assignment, and gathered black, yellow, purple and blue…not quite knowing what I'd do with them, but choosing the colors that I was least comfortable with. I was more of an orange, green and brown kind of girl — earthy. I wanted to take the assignment to heart and really stretch to find something inspiring.

As I reached for the brushes, my hand collided with the cool skin of someone who had also chosen that moment to get their supplies. I looked up and stifled a soft gasp. _Edward_. He smirked down at me, his green eyes making my knees into instant jelly.

"Sorry!" I said quickly, pulling my hand back. He chuckled slightly, offering me the brush I had been reaching for. I took it, noticing that he held onto it a millisecond longer than necessary.

"You're Bella, right?" his husky voice asked. I nodded, and decided right then that I loved the way my name sounded coming from his mouth. My nipples immediately hardened, but I ignored them. "This is your first art class?"

"Yes, it is," I said, quieter than I had intended. I just couldn't concentrate with him so close.

He seemed to zone out for a moment, staring at my shirt before his eyes rolled slowly back up to meet mine. My insides melted — the man was a walking, talking object of lust!

He blessed me with that irresistible crooked smile. "Well, Bella…I can't wait to see what you create this semester. Let me know if you need any help." I gave him a shaky smile and turned to walk back to my seat, clutching my supplies. I could feel his eyes watching me the entire time. When I sat down, I chanced a glance at him to see him with his hands deep in his pockets, looking my way, slightly stunned. I flushed red once again, trying to ignore the ache that throbbed in my center.

I sat there for the entire class period, staring at the blank canvas. My brush was dipped in purple and the black, yellow and blue sat nearby, but all I could think of was bronze. When I saw my classmates cleaning up and leaving, I cursed under my breath, frustrated. I thought I heard a soft chuckle behind me when I did, and I whirled around only to find myself nose-to-nose with Edward. He had been leaning over my shoulder, contemplating my blank canvas.

Our faces were literally inches from each other. He froze for a moment and pulled back, surprised; but it wasn't long before the smirk was back on his face.

"Are you having trouble with the assignment, Bella?" he whispered, his voice sparking through my ears, straight down into my panties. _Dear Lord_ … "My offer to help still stands."

The words were out of my mouth before my brain had processed them. "What kind of help can you give me?"

His eyes seemed to darken. "You seem to be having trouble finding your inspiration. We could…talk. Maybe find some ideas for your project. I could meet you here sometime over the weekend if you'd like."

He leaned a bit closer and I felt dazzled — intoxicated by his very presence. "Sure," I spluttered. "Saturday afternoon?"

He shook his head, but never broke eye contact. "I'm helping out at the opening of the college's latest student art exhibit. How about afterward…around 6:30?" He pointed to the round window opposite the one where he had been sitting the first time I had seen him. "The sun sets through that window around that time, and there's nothing that inspires me more than a sunset. It might help inspire you." His voice got deeper as he spoke, and I realized how closely we were leaning together. It probably looked very inappropriate.

"Sounds good," I said nervously, standing to gather my supplies. He stopped me, placing his hand on mine. I gasped at the tingle that radiated from his touch, up my arm and through my whole body.

"I'll clean up for you. I know you have to get to work, right?" I nodded dumbly and began walking toward the door. I was nearly out into the hall when I heard his breathtaking voice call after me, "Don't forget…6:30 on Saturday!"

For the next two days, I was frazzled beyond belief. I don't know what I was expecting, but the neglected sexual side of me had been screaming and doing the conga ever since class on Thursday. I had put my silver bullet to good use — even having to replace the batteries once — with fantasies about bare, muscular skin against mine and running my fingers through luscious bronze hair. Still, the release wasn't enough, and my core was constantly nagging at me.

Should I try to seduce him? I had signed up for this art class for an experience, and now found myself desperate to experience Edward. But was I being silly? I felt so old next to him, even though there couldn't have been more than seven years' difference.

I may have been older, but at least I had my looks on my side. Not that I was conceited, but I knew I was pretty. My hair had always been thick, shiny and brown, and my face was nice to look at. My lower lip was a bit larger than my top, but not necessarily in a bad way. It was half of an Angelina pout. My body — well, my body was awesome! After college, I had discovered a love of jogging, and my morning runs kept me slim and firm. In my opinion, my breasts were phenomenal — symmetric, full, perky and natural.

I never thought I looked like I was 29, except that my eyes carried a certain maturity in them. A maturity that I noticed in Edward too.

_Screw it_ , I thought as Saturday afternoon dragged. I wasn't going to throw myself at my T.A. and make a fool of myself. Certain I had misread his signals as my own wishful thinking, I got ready to head to campus.

Wearing my best set of stained and slightly ripped clothing, and carrying a bag with some snacks and a bottle of water, I made my way up the stairs to the attic art classroom. If I weren't afraid of looking like a loon, I would have audibly yelled at the butterflies in my stomach to _settle down_ ; instead, I tried to silently tell them that there was nothing to be nervous about…that nothing was going to happen but art.

The large, airy room was much darker in the dusk than I was used to seeing. Gorgeous hues of orange spilled in from the side window. Edward had been right, the sunset was spectacular in this room.

I stood there, looking out at the fiery sky, when I heard the quiet "ahem" of someone clearing their throat. Spinning around, I saw him, his work clothes covered with the paint from several years of projects. He was peering from the side of a large canvas, and I walked over to him, gasping as his artwork came into view.

It was the sunset through the window. Except instead of a college campus, he had painted a small distant lake with some dark, graceful birds swimming, framed by glowing sunlight.

"Geese?" I guessed, in awe of his talent.

"Something like that," he said, his eyes carefully observing me.

"It's beautiful," I murmured. "You're talented…how long did this take you?"

"Well, it's still a work in progress, but I started it after the first day of classes."

I stared at his canvas and felt him staring at me. Turning to meet his gaze, we both laughed softly, breaking the tension.

"So," he said, putting down his brush, "let's think about your project. Is there anything that you can think of that's outside of your comfort zone?"

"This," I laughed, and his eyes widened. With a panic, I realized what he thought I meant, and I stammered, "I mean, this class! I'm always someone who plays by the rules and never does anything outside of what is comfortable and familiar. So, taking this class… _painting_ …is a huge stretch for me."

He seemed to be thinking. "Hmm, so just the act of you painting is outside of your comfort zone? I think the simple act of painting might prove to be quite inspirational to you." He stood up and walked across the room. "Let's try something." He grabbed a huge roll of white paper and unrolled several blank feet, finally tearing it off, then tearing off a smaller piece. Then he grabbed a case with several paint colors and headed back to me. "First, I think that you need to throw out all of your preconceived notions about what art is. It's not just pretty pictures on a canvas. It's an expression of your soul…of your…desires."

His eyes burned brightly as he explained, and I found myself dazzled again by his passion. He set the large piece to the side and put the smaller one in front of me on the floor.

"We're going to do some prep work before we start your project. I want you to put paint on this paper. Any color or colors. But you need to use your hands. I want you to feel the paint and feel how _you_ make art. Let it be organic." His voice was excited as he spread the paper on the ground and I looked at it, unsure.

"Come here, Bella," he said firmly, grabbing my hand and pulling me down to my knees, next to where he was seated on the floor. I breathed in sharply, looking down at our clasped hands and back up to Edward's face. He was looking at our hands too, his eyes smoldering. It took a moment before he released me and motioned toward the paint.

"Do what feels right," he said simply, leaning back to watch me. I licked my lips anxiously and hesitated. "Do it, Bella," he said softly.

I dipped my fingers into the yellow, smearing it on the blank page in a semi circle that ended up looking a bit like Pac Man. I chuckled slightly. "Keep going," Edward urged.

Not stopping to wipe my fingers clean, I scooped a glob of sage green in my palm and slapped my hand down. I felt the paint oozing between my fingers, and I started making my hand "crawl" up and down the page. Soon I had red covering my fingertips as I drummed a pattern around the streaks I had just created.

My eyes closed slightly when I added orange to the mix, pressing my thumb deep into the cool stickiness as I went back and forth. My breathing sped up as the back of my hand dabbed large black spots here and there. Finally, my eyes flew open and I saw what I had created. To someone who hadn't just experienced the art with her own hands, it probably looked ordinary — like paint daubs on a plain white page. To me, however, it looked like _freedom_.

I broke out in a grin, looking up at Edward, who was studying my face with a burning intensity. "It's beautiful!" I said. "It's…"

"…beautiful," he finished for me, his green eyes dark and filled with what looked like desire. He reached for my paint-covered hand and pressed it into his own, making yellow-sage-red-orange-black smudges appear on his fingers and palm.

I heard his words echo in my head: _Do what feels right_. I made a split second decision to do something that was so out of my comfort zone, I might as well have been hypnotized. In a way, I was...hypnotized by the beautiful man in front of me.

I let go of his hand and twisted my fingers into the front of his shirt, pulling him to me as I leaned forward. Our lips met roughly, urgently, and before I could register what I had done, I felt his hands on my shoulders, pulling me closer toward him.

We broke the kiss for a moment to stare at each other, reading the hunger and need that was present on both of our faces before he leapt at me, devouring my lips with his. His tongue flicked at my lips and I opened them for him, inviting him in with an excited gasp. He tasted like cloves and man, and I moaned a bit at the flavor. Our tongues danced around each other, licking and tasting. I nibbled his lips lightly and he groaned against my mouth.

He pushed me back roughly, and I could feel my still-wet paper underneath me as he lay on top of me, but I didn't care.

"Mmm, Edward," I said breathily as his mouth left mine and he licked across my jaw line. I wrapped my legs around him as he pressed his groin into mine. His muscles were so hard, but there was something else hard pressing into my lower stomach.

"Do you feel that?" he rasped, nipping my collarbone. "Do you feel what you do to me?" As if to prove his point, he thrust himself against me again, making me cry out softly. "God, Bella…I haven't been able to get you out of my mind since I first saw you this week!"

My mind raced and my nether-regions started doing the conga again. I hesitated for the slightest of moments, and Edward pulled back.

"What do you want, Bella?"

I looked into his smoldering eyes and pushed him off of me. I saw a flicker of disappointment cloud his features until I sat up and pulled my shirt over my head.

"I want you, Edward. I want to make art with you…and I want to make love with you."

We both stood up, staring at one another. He took his shirt off and my eyes widened at his chiseled magnificence. I pulled my paint-spattered pants down over my hips and let them fall into a pool at my feet, keeping my eyes locked on his as I stepped out of them. He did the same.

My chest began to rise and fall more rapidly with my excited breathing. I pulled my panties down, which were already wet from my arousal at being in Edward's presence. I reached around and unhooked my bra, letting it fall slowly off my breasts until I was bare in front of him. I heard him breathe in sharply.

He stepped forward, reaching out to lightly touch my breast, his thumb passing over my nipple, which hardened immediately. I hissed as the sensation sent a warm feeling into my loins. I glanced down at his hand and noticed a smudge of orange on my skin. It gave me an idea.

"Come here," I murmured, hooking my fingers into the waistband of his boxer briefs and pulling him to me. He went to kiss me and I put my finger up to stop him. "Stand here," I instructed, maneuvering him until he was standing on the larger, still-blank piece of paper. Reaching down, I grabbed the case full of paints and put it at our feet.

I knelt in front of him and dipped my fingers in the blue. I stared up at him through my lashes and reached up, raking blue streaks from his chest down to his underwear, which I pulled down as I continued to trail blue on his skin all the way to the floor. His massive cock hovered in front of my face and I licked my upper lip as I bent toward it.

I took as much of him into my mouth as I could, swirling my tongue around the tip and darting it into the small slit at the end where his salty pre-cum was dripping. I hooked one arm around the top of his thigh and pulled him to me as I started sliding his length in and out of my mouth, stopping to rake my teeth against his skin and vibrate against him with my deep moans.

With my other hand I fumbled at my feet until I found a random paint container and held it up to him. I felt him put some paint on his hands and set the container aside. I slid him further and further in my mouth, relaxing my throat as he began thrusting gently with his hips.

"Fuck, Bella…your mouth feels so good," he growled. His hands ran across my shoulders and down my upper arms, and I felt the slick sensation of paint being smeared by his fingers. He began thrusting harder, and I squealed and whimpered against his hot cock. I put one hand down to steady myself and found my fingers in another container of paint. Scooping some with my fingers, I reached up and cupped his balls, coating them with paint as he slammed into my throat, grunting and finally roaring loudly as his cum spurted against the back of my mouth.

I pulled back and swallowed it greedily, looking up at him. He cupped my face in his hand, smearing a streak on my cheek, and then dropped to his knees and pulled me to him.

His lips trailed kisses down my neck, stopping at my shoulder where teal stripes now covered my skin. "Beautiful," he murmured, turning to the side to coat his hands with shining, wet pink paint. He began to rub circles on my stomach and sides, and leaned down to take one of my nipples into his mouth. I cried out, arching my back and rubbing some of the pink onto his neck and chest.

"God, Edward…that makes my pussy feel so warm…so good! I'm so wet for you."

His hands grabbed at my soft breasts, squeezing them lightly as his tongue flicked against my sensitive nubs. "Really?" he breathed against my skin, the smile apparent in his velvety voice. "I want a taste…"

He continued his way down, rubbing his nose against my now pink-painted skin and stopping when he came to my slick folds. I always left a little bit of hair there, and I knew it was probably glistening with juices from my arousal.

He groaned and his tongue flicked out to lap at my wetness. "Mmm," I moaned as he did it again. He spread my lips apart slightly with his hands and began licking rapidly, devouring every trace of my arousal. I ran my blue-tinted fingers through his hair — the mere sensation of which almost sent me over the edge.

I noticed him grabbing at paint with his left hand as he began sucking on my clit, rendering me speechless. The next thing I knew, both of his hands were rubbing circles on my breasts, making my clit twitch every time he passed by my nipples. He had purple in his hands, making my breasts shine with wet paint.

I bucked into his face, where he was still sucking and nibbling my clit, covering his chin with more of my wetness. I groped for some paint, and ran my now yellow-covered fingers up and down his arms as he continued to rub and pinch my paint-covered nipples.

I felt the familiar ache in my center growing hotter, and I knew I was moments away from the most mind-blowing orgasm I'd ever had. "Edward," I cried, "Oh, God…yes!" He shoved his tongue in my pussy. "I'm coming…I'm…oooohhhhh!" My muscles clenched around his tongue and I heard him swallowing my juices ravenously.

He pulled back from my throbbing folds and stared up at me with animal intensity. I could see his cock hardening again and I wanted it. Badly.

He dove up toward me and kissed me deeply. I could taste myself on his lips and tongue and it excited me even more. We rolled to the side and I felt a container of paint tip over and a wet puddle creep underneath me. But I didn't want to stop, and we rolled the other way, knocking over the small table next to Edward's sunset masterpiece.

Small cups of paint fell on top of us. One landed square on Edward's back and spread down his sides. I rubbed my hands in it, feeling it between my fingers. Another splashed across our thighs and yet another bounced until my right foot was coated with color. Still we didn't break apart.

He rolled so I was on top of him, and I rubbed my slick, throbbing folds up and down his length, aching to have him plunge into me. He reached around and slapped my ass with his paint-covered hands, causing me to squeal into his mouth and my hips to buck forward. I felt the tip of him rub against my clit and moaned. "Aaah, aah," I breathed as I began rocking my hips back and forth, feeling his slick cock pressing against my most sensitive spot.

Edward's eyes were wide as he watched me rub against him, using him to get off. I sat up and he reached for my slippery breasts. I could see spots of purple on his chest where my tits had pressed against his skin. I moved my hips, faster and faster as the fire burned and my pussy erupted into waves of pleasure. "God, yes!" I screamed, throwing my head back.

Edward sat up, wrapping his arms around my middle and tugging me over to my side, then onto my back. His breath was warm in my ear as he whispered, "I want to fuck you, Bella. Do you want me?"

"Mmm, yes," I moaned, raising my hips to rub my slick center against his hardness. "I want you inside me, Edward! Please…"

I felt the heat of his cock in my folds and looked down to see his massive erection poised at my entrance. With one firm thrust, he slid in all the way to the hilt, growling "Oh, fuck Bella," as he did. The sensation of him filling me was indescribable. He slid out slowly before plunging in roughly again, beginning a tentative rhythm. I wrapped my legs around his waist and pressed my feet into his rear, urging him to go deeper. He sped up, making my breast bounce with every thrust.

"Faster, Edward! Mmm, fuck that's so good…faster!"

He grabbed my legs and moved them so they were up by his shoulders, leaving me spread wide open for him. He began to plow into me faster, harder. Our bodies clapped together as he plunged in and out of me, and I cried out incoherently as a third orgasm began building in my center. He grabbed my hair and tugged it roughly as he slammed against me, the large room echoing with our ragged breathing, grunts, and the slaps of skin on skin.

"Shit, oh shit…oh shiiiiiit," I moaned and my pussy began to squeeze his cock as my orgasm overtook me. His breath was frantic and he was rasping my name as he finally yelled and filled me with his fluids, my muscles milking him for every drop.

He collapsed next to me and we took a moment to stare at the starry sky through the rooftop windows of the attic, collecting our wits. Finally, he murmured, "Bella?"

I met his gaze and giggled at what I saw. He was covered from head to toe in splashes of paint — a gorgeous, bronze-haired artwork. He grinned back at me.

"You think I look funny…you should see yourself," he smirked, and I looked down. I was similarly covered with color, and I started to laugh. He joined in for a moment before pulling me to him for a sweet kiss.

We couldn't stay in the attic all night, even though I would have liked to. As we stood up and I bent to pick up the various spilled paint containers, I heard Edward whisper, "Wow."

I looked up at him. "What?"

He pulled me to him and gave me a deep kiss, then pointed to the floor where we had just been. The large piece of paper was blank no more. Instead it held the most beautiful mix of colors and strokes. I could see handprints, footprints, large spots of single colors and spots with lots of colors interwoven. Giggling, I even saw what appeared to be a yellow butt print. It was colorful, fun and…inspiring.

"I think you have your assignment completed," he whispered, lacing his paint-covered fingers into mine. "It's a masterpiece."

"Thank you for your help," I murmured, brushing my lips against his. "I think I may have found the experience I was looking for."

We took the paper and placed it off to the side of the room to dry. Edward promised me he'd help me build a wooden frame for it during class on Tuesday. We cleaned up the spilled paint as best we could, but finally realized the new splotches added another element to the artwork that was the worn wooden floor of the attic studio.

We couldn't get much of the paint off our skin using the small sink in the corner of the room. Edward looked apprehensive at the thought of walking across campus to his dorm while covered from head to toe with color. My car was parked right outside, and I took another step outside of my comfort zone.

"Would you like to come to my apartment and have a shower?" My question had a bit more weight behind it than just a simple shower. I was inviting Edward back to my home, and into my life. I think we both understood.

He looked at me for a long moment, a half smile on his face. "I would love to, Bella." Then he kissed me softly.

And hand-in-hand, we walked out of the attic, down the stairs and to my car; walking out of our comfort zones to find inspiration in each other.


End file.
